Something that I am. I am instrumental in the way that I am musical, and also I try to be instrumental in my success. Also, the “mental” part of the word is sort of a huge part of my personality too…
You were instrumental in my development both as an athlete and as an intellectual. Not to mention as a person. That’s kind of a cool thing. But I never really told you that, I don’t think, at least not as an adult. Maybe as a kid, but I’m sure I didn’t really say it all that well. I never say things all that well at the moment that it really matters.
I fall. Splashing in the puddle, my body is drenched in water, mud, and grass. With a cry of pain, I pull up to a sitting position. Slowly, I try to stand but pain courses of my leg from my ankle.
I bite my lips. Tears begin to well in my eyes. I can’t stand. I can’t move. I’m rooted in this position.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but the rain started to pour. With it, my tears increased.
I don’t know how long I sat there in that puddle weeping. But when I heard a foot slosh in a distant puddle.
Quickly, my eyes jerk up and I see a lone figure emerge from the shadows.
The man walks closer to me. A jacket surrounds his tall form, and his blond hair flows loosely in the wind.
He stops next to me. Kneeling down, he searches my eyes and asks, “Are you alright?”
“My ankle,” I whisper.
He offers his hand. Gingerly, I take it and grimace when I’m helped to my feet. “Your ankle?”
I nod.
For a moment, he hesitates but shrugs and picks me up.
Pointing towards my house, he carries me through the rain.
After he knocked on my door, my father carried me up to my room, I never saw that helpful man again.
All the training he’d had as a cop were instrumental in what he and the Ninja Babe did in the next few hours. Jensen put his hand on her shoulder and brought her down to his crouch as they peered through the fluttering blinds of the window. Outside, forming up in a circle in the quad between the apartment buildings, were 8 military-style tracked vehicles. One by one, the tops popped open on the tin cans and uniformed heads peeked out.
The wind blew in deep tenors. The rain fell to the ground in lovely chimes. Thunder roared. Lighting flashed across the sky. Birds called out as they tried to hide. Children cried out in joy as they danced.
All of it was harmony in my ears.
I like the weight of sound in my ears. The trills, the twangs, and the cosmic wonder of echoes and reverb, the coalescing so many dissonant elements until a fuzzy melody emerges from the background noise…and it all just makes sense.
I always found the violin to be a boring instrument. But it was beautiful when he played. I never heard anything like it. I wanted him to play forever. Even if I never made him mine, i wanted him to continue.
Instrumental pieces without the singing, contrary to my friend’s beliefs, invokes a certain happiness in me. I play violin, and the sound of instruments playing expresses more emotions than I will ever be able to.
I sang the lyrics to the instrumental version of Moves Like Jagger at the top of my lungs in my house because I was alone for the first time in months. I’ve been unable to capture even single moments of silence.
It was a pretty piece, softly serenading my ears. Its music floated through the air like soft clouds through the heavens. It was an instrumental of violins, cellos and a flute… heavenly.
I hate it when you are in such a mood for listening to a specific song, go on your iPod, and hit play. Then you jump in the shower and atr ready to sing your heart out along to the lyrics you barely know. And then, you find out it is the instrumental version. You are soaking wet and covering in soap so obviously its going to be hard to change it. If you do manage to change it though, you won’t be able to listen to the song that has been stuck in your head all day. No, of course not. That would require buying it or searching it on youtube, and you can’t do that with soap in your eyes. So you listen to another stupid song. Oh and the best part is when the next day it happens again, because obviously you forgot to be the regular version of the song.
The instrumental accompaniment was perfect for a play like The Winter’s Tale. Stripped down, elemental, elegant, and useful. Isn’t that a root meaning of “instrumental,” that it serve as an instrument? That it do something? That it be useful? As opposed to “art for art’s sake”?
Instrumental stinks.. I want to write about things that are deep and have meaning to me. But honestly the first thing that pops into my head with instrumental is kareoke, and yes I enjoy kareoke, but I am not very good at it so I would prefer not to write about it. Oh well
Instrumental-Musik ist nicht so sehr mein Fall. Klassik natürlich schon, da stehe ich sogar NUR auf Instrumental – Gesang, so wie in der Oper, nervt mich da meistens. Aber was Pop und so angeht, muss unbedingt Gesang dabei sein. Sonst langweile ich mich schnell. Schräg.
The instrumental playing over the airport intercom was hardly an instrumental. It was more like a painfully stilted rendition of what should have been a brilliant piece of classical music, only the flute sounded like a tin whistle, the oboes were like rubbing metal against metal, and the whole melody sounded like it was being squished down a funnel and turned into a disgusting cacophonic soup.
I am istrumental. But not right now where writer’s block follows me around like an old friend. He trails behind me right on my heels but everytime I turn he’s gone. I try to grasp at an idea but alas it floats back to him and I miss my opportunity again.
It was such a simple instrumental too.
Karkat growled in frustration, gnashing his teeth.
“Don’t think too much about it dumbass.”
“Don’t tell me what to do Strider. Asshole.”
Dave only smirked and kissed the troll.
“You know it babe. Now touch it here.”
it must have hurt but she didn’t mind. she liked it, the constant throb of the bass vibrating through her eardrums, booming from the headphones around her, almost managing to block the world out. it made her feel more alive, somehow. more like a person.
Recently i got addicted to instrumental music:) On Jamendo they had amazing instrumental music. some were soothing others were like rock and techno. For auditions you have to bring the instrumental version of the song you want to sing. sooo random lol
“She was instrumental to the success of the mission, colonel. She was the one who warned us about the laser defense system. She was the one who took down the Dreadnought. She knew the codes. She saved your ass.”
Now don’t get me wrong, I like instrumental music. Honestly, it needs a bit more power these days. The world has become so indifferent but don’t let me blame the music for that. No. We just need more impowered people doing powerful things. Don’t get me wrong.
Jessica is just sitting there, wondering how on earth she got her self into this. I am beautiful, and talented. Why won’t they let me in. Then as I was sitting there outside the audition room I saw him. The most beautiful, weird wonderful man I had ever seen. He must have seen me sitting there all alone looking sad, because the next thing I knew he came right up to me.
“Hey”
I looked up and realized he was talking to me, me. He was even more stunning up close.
“Hey” was all I could mumble.
“What are you doing sitting here all alone looking so very sad for?” He asked.
“I…I…I I just had my audition. It wasn’t that great. It doesn’t look good for me.” I told him,though I have no idea why.
“What? A pretty woman like you. What could have gone wrong? You probably just think it’s worse than it is.” He said trying to make me feel better.
“Jessica Flower, could we see you for a minute?” I heard a man say.
I started to get up very slowly. This beautiful man said “Just sit here a minute I will talk to them first.”
A few minutes later him and the man came back out smiling and laughing.
“You are in,” he said.
“What really! I can’t believe it. What did you do?” I said overjoyed.
“I just asked them to think really hard about their decision. And reminded them who signs their checks.” He said proudly.
All I could do was stare at him.
“Hi, I am Dr. Ashmore. Nice to meet you.” He said as I stood there dumbfounded.
That is how I meet the man that changed my life. He was instrumental in me getting into college. He is the love of my life. I still can’t believe it, even after 25 yrs together. As we sit here in this beautiful room filled with all of our closest friends and family, all I can think is how blessed I am to have had the privilege to know and love this man.
Jethro Tull. He comes to mind when I hear instrumental. Can’t wait to listen to him during my workout. LOCOMOTIVE BREATH. great song. or maybe BOUREE. I can’t make up my mind. All of his songs are amazing, though.
i have no idea aghhhhhh what the hell help me i gues instruments? and music and stuff. abcdefgabcdefg. maybe something sciency
or mathy? like telsope
helps.
…… ummmm
i guess
like the magnifying glass?
is that instrumental…..maybe
The pure voice of an instrument is and always has been for many, the very essence of nature itself. For me it’s even more, even a quite humming can break the bonds that hold my mind together, forever shattering the way I look at the world.
Instrumental silence is absurdly ironic but it was what I experienced that evening as I boarded the train to Brideshore. The sky seemed to hum a dying evening song that I could neither hear nor feel as my own emotional bridge to my new life.
My cello is my voice. Without it, I am nothing. Everyone has something that is their voice, everyone has their instrumental side. Mine is my cello. My home, my voice, my passion, my love.
Something that I am. I am instrumental in the way that I am musical, and also I try to be instrumental in my success. Also, the “mental” part of the word is sort of a huge part of my personality too…
It is music. We here music anywhere. We hear music in songs, instruments, and the notes we talk with.
You were instrumental in my development both as an athlete and as an intellectual. Not to mention as a person. That’s kind of a cool thing. But I never really told you that, I don’t think, at least not as an adult. Maybe as a kid, but I’m sure I didn’t really say it all that well. I never say things all that well at the moment that it really matters.
I fall. Splashing in the puddle, my body is drenched in water, mud, and grass. With a cry of pain, I pull up to a sitting position. Slowly, I try to stand but pain courses of my leg from my ankle.
I bite my lips. Tears begin to well in my eyes. I can’t stand. I can’t move. I’m rooted in this position.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but the rain started to pour. With it, my tears increased.
I don’t know how long I sat there in that puddle weeping. But when I heard a foot slosh in a distant puddle.
Quickly, my eyes jerk up and I see a lone figure emerge from the shadows.
The man walks closer to me. A jacket surrounds his tall form, and his blond hair flows loosely in the wind.
He stops next to me. Kneeling down, he searches my eyes and asks, “Are you alright?”
“My ankle,” I whisper.
He offers his hand. Gingerly, I take it and grimace when I’m helped to my feet. “Your ankle?”
I nod.
For a moment, he hesitates but shrugs and picks me up.
Pointing towards my house, he carries me through the rain.
After he knocked on my door, my father carried me up to my room, I never saw that helpful man again.
All the training he’d had as a cop were instrumental in what he and the Ninja Babe did in the next few hours. Jensen put his hand on her shoulder and brought her down to his crouch as they peered through the fluttering blinds of the window. Outside, forming up in a circle in the quad between the apartment buildings, were 8 military-style tracked vehicles. One by one, the tops popped open on the tin cans and uniformed heads peeked out.
Mostly keeping quiet, Dawson lived beautifully instrumental. He died sining “Amazing grace.”
The wind blew in deep tenors. The rain fell to the ground in lovely chimes. Thunder roared. Lighting flashed across the sky. Birds called out as they tried to hide. Children cried out in joy as they danced.
All of it was harmony in my ears.
The presence of Eric’s mother during the game was an instrumental factor to his victory. Without her nothing would have been possible
I like the weight of sound in my ears. The trills, the twangs, and the cosmic wonder of echoes and reverb, the coalescing so many dissonant elements until a fuzzy melody emerges from the background noise…and it all just makes sense.
I always found the violin to be a boring instrument. But it was beautiful when he played. I never heard anything like it. I wanted him to play forever. Even if I never made him mine, i wanted him to continue.
My instrument is my life.
Instrumental pieces without the singing, contrary to my friend’s beliefs, invokes a certain happiness in me. I play violin, and the sound of instruments playing expresses more emotions than I will ever be able to.
I sang the lyrics to the instrumental version of Moves Like Jagger at the top of my lungs in my house because I was alone for the first time in months. I’ve been unable to capture even single moments of silence.
Music is full of wonderful things like instrments.
This is a very instrumental program. There is no singing. Only the bands are playing. Boom, boom, bang blang, clang, clang.
skip to the instrumental
the lyrics were just words anyway
It was a pretty piece, softly serenading my ears. Its music floated through the air like soft clouds through the heavens. It was an instrumental of violins, cellos and a flute… heavenly.
Her life continued to be instrumental ever since she learned how to play the piano at 6 years old.
I hate it when you are in such a mood for listening to a specific song, go on your iPod, and hit play. Then you jump in the shower and atr ready to sing your heart out along to the lyrics you barely know. And then, you find out it is the instrumental version. You are soaking wet and covering in soap so obviously its going to be hard to change it. If you do manage to change it though, you won’t be able to listen to the song that has been stuck in your head all day. No, of course not. That would require buying it or searching it on youtube, and you can’t do that with soap in your eyes. So you listen to another stupid song. Oh and the best part is when the next day it happens again, because obviously you forgot to be the regular version of the song.
The instrumental accompaniment was perfect for a play like The Winter’s Tale. Stripped down, elemental, elegant, and useful. Isn’t that a root meaning of “instrumental,” that it serve as an instrument? That it do something? That it be useful? As opposed to “art for art’s sake”?
Instrumental stinks.. I want to write about things that are deep and have meaning to me. But honestly the first thing that pops into my head with instrumental is kareoke, and yes I enjoy kareoke, but I am not very good at it so I would prefer not to write about it. Oh well
Instrumental-Musik ist nicht so sehr mein Fall. Klassik natürlich schon, da stehe ich sogar NUR auf Instrumental – Gesang, so wie in der Oper, nervt mich da meistens. Aber was Pop und so angeht, muss unbedingt Gesang dabei sein. Sonst langweile ich mich schnell. Schräg.
The instrumental playing over the airport intercom was hardly an instrumental. It was more like a painfully stilted rendition of what should have been a brilliant piece of classical music, only the flute sounded like a tin whistle, the oboes were like rubbing metal against metal, and the whole melody sounded like it was being squished down a funnel and turned into a disgusting cacophonic soup.
I am istrumental. But not right now where writer’s block follows me around like an old friend. He trails behind me right on my heels but everytime I turn he’s gone. I try to grasp at an idea but alas it floats back to him and I miss my opportunity again.
It was such a simple instrumental too.
Karkat growled in frustration, gnashing his teeth.
“Don’t think too much about it dumbass.”
“Don’t tell me what to do Strider. Asshole.”
Dave only smirked and kissed the troll.
“You know it babe. Now touch it here.”
my windows are open and im falling in love all over again because rain makes the most beautiful sound.
it must have hurt but she didn’t mind. she liked it, the constant throb of the bass vibrating through her eardrums, booming from the headphones around her, almost managing to block the world out. it made her feel more alive, somehow. more like a person.
Recently i got addicted to instrumental music:) On Jamendo they had amazing instrumental music. some were soothing others were like rock and techno. For auditions you have to bring the instrumental version of the song you want to sing. sooo random lol
“She was instrumental to the success of the mission, colonel. She was the one who warned us about the laser defense system. She was the one who took down the Dreadnought. She knew the codes. She saved your ass.”
She heard her favorite song. There were no voices, only the instruments playing the lonely rhythm, making her loneliness so evident.
Now don’t get me wrong, I like instrumental music. Honestly, it needs a bit more power these days. The world has become so indifferent but don’t let me blame the music for that. No. We just need more impowered people doing powerful things. Don’t get me wrong.
Jessica is just sitting there, wondering how on earth she got her self into this. I am beautiful, and talented. Why won’t they let me in. Then as I was sitting there outside the audition room I saw him. The most beautiful, weird wonderful man I had ever seen. He must have seen me sitting there all alone looking sad, because the next thing I knew he came right up to me.
“Hey”
I looked up and realized he was talking to me, me. He was even more stunning up close.
“Hey” was all I could mumble.
“What are you doing sitting here all alone looking so very sad for?” He asked.
“I…I…I I just had my audition. It wasn’t that great. It doesn’t look good for me.” I told him,though I have no idea why.
“What? A pretty woman like you. What could have gone wrong? You probably just think it’s worse than it is.” He said trying to make me feel better.
“Jessica Flower, could we see you for a minute?” I heard a man say.
I started to get up very slowly. This beautiful man said “Just sit here a minute I will talk to them first.”
A few minutes later him and the man came back out smiling and laughing.
“You are in,” he said.
“What really! I can’t believe it. What did you do?” I said overjoyed.
“I just asked them to think really hard about their decision. And reminded them who signs their checks.” He said proudly.
All I could do was stare at him.
“Hi, I am Dr. Ashmore. Nice to meet you.” He said as I stood there dumbfounded.
That is how I meet the man that changed my life. He was instrumental in me getting into college. He is the love of my life. I still can’t believe it, even after 25 yrs together. As we sit here in this beautiful room filled with all of our closest friends and family, all I can think is how blessed I am to have had the privilege to know and love this man.
makes happen
is responsible for making something happen
Jethro Tull. He comes to mind when I hear instrumental. Can’t wait to listen to him during my workout. LOCOMOTIVE BREATH. great song. or maybe BOUREE. I can’t make up my mind. All of his songs are amazing, though.
i have no idea aghhhhhh what the hell help me i gues instruments? and music and stuff. abcdefgabcdefg. maybe something sciency
or mathy? like telsope
helps.
…… ummmm
i guess
like the magnifying glass?
is that instrumental…..maybe
Charles Pierce says God speaks to us in three ways; language, math and music. Music is instrumental to hearing God speak. Amen
The pure voice of an instrument is and always has been for many, the very essence of nature itself. For me it’s even more, even a quite humming can break the bonds that hold my mind together, forever shattering the way I look at the world.
Instrumental silence is absurdly ironic but it was what I experienced that evening as I boarded the train to Brideshore. The sky seemed to hum a dying evening song that I could neither hear nor feel as my own emotional bridge to my new life.
My cello is my voice. Without it, I am nothing. Everyone has something that is their voice, everyone has their instrumental side. Mine is my cello. My home, my voice, my passion, my love.
She was strumming what looked like a 650 string guitar and it made the sound of the ocean as heard by the sky.